I Kan't SpellAll these pictures I see pictures of friends gathered together. They are celebrating birthdays and restaurant openings. business anniversaries, even church events, or other children’s birthdays. I don’t have any pictures like this in the last 10 years. I always rain water on them. I’m just not a happy person that way. I can throw a party. I can bring people together that likely want to see each other - but at no point does anyone want to see me. Or maybe they do and I shut it down. But I get sad seeing these photos. I get sad knowing I don’t have these kinds of relationships - maybe I never did - maybe it was my decision all along or... as I always assume - maybe I’m just an asshole. Ahhh cheee bayyyy I never thought That reading so much Would develop as many Chains As ships to new lands. I always assumed that Being passionate, Being alive, Would inspire the world To open. Instead it made a cell for me Where I see nothing But nothing And that nothing Wants me dead. Things fall apart. Indeed. Take the Time I’ve never stopped for a sunset I once stayed up all night And watched the sun rise On a beach in Maryland I never even thought about It Until today. Take a look Have a thought Rest for a second Take an inhale that Can round your day Clean of the static. Embrace the bones Sticking to your lungs As your breathe Feel them heavy and sticky Rising and falling In seconds Don't Take it Personal Listen I write these things for me I write these things for my own window My own world My own cathartic moment of lens So don't take it personal - I'm not worth that. (prelude over) I have a hard time looking at myself I have confidence with who I am I can feel that in my feet And in my head. I don't fear much - I do fear though My own reflection. Superficially - no one has ever called me handsome - or hot - barely cute. And that's ok - but that wears on you psychologically over the years. Like it or not - that's a fact. I don't care who you are. Internally - no one that I have known for a long time thinks I'm a good person. They find me tolerable, or with means, or oddly crazy at best. They know something in me is broken. They know I lie. They know I'm shallow. They know I'm mean. They know I'm not as smart as I think I am. And that's on me. I never got to be The person I always wanted to be Mostly because it was too hard And not enough fun And it seemed boring. But all the people and mirrors I've broke along the way. Tell a story that I do take personal - but you shouldn't. Sometimes - the hero goes away even in his own story. Election Turning and turning in the widening gyre The falcon cannot hear the falconer; Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold; Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world, The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere The ceremony of innocence is drowned; The best lack all conviction, while the worst Are full of passionate intensity. ~ Yeats Truth There comes a point Ya know they were right Do this Think about that Consider an option Change Don’t Wait As a shark loves a moose Only so much Can be done Before there are antlers Or fins Strewn Poorly Weakly Today was a day Tomorrow will be another Hold the circle like The falconer In a Yeats poem Centers Can’t hold Syrup Did I ever tell you about the time The Jack of spades Jumped out of the deck To fight What was seemingly The one thing worth fighting for In the world of Make believe. Syrup. Ner The end of the smile Is the curl Left unfurled To start your day. In a way Unexpected, Tasteful and smart. Like a ‘ner Twinkled to infer. 1 " Let yourself swim alone out where you never go." Fair span of year After living out the fairest span of year Losing her youth to the venom She taught the tame to wicked She became the thing she suffered Turning away to pastures before She didn’t make the lovers choice - but the poets. Content in choice is paramount. Intent understood is an elixir. What a fine web. What a time to be alive. This Space Wcw - preamble as by children. Outmatched and ill-witted. The scene told me What I already knew, Too much beauty Is too much. Little Lion You have your first non waking pseudo. A paper clip Bent to the angles finely and terse. Fingers - blood red to the top pointer; Blow on it - eye level - carefully, purposefully, Cleanly. The small of a back. The tempest foreshadow In the haze of Borealis dust. In the moment first- Right before you open your hand To release the day’s prayer. An echo with weight that startles. A pin popping the cool air filled night. All you had was selfish. All that gave was as well. Little lions eventually eat and hunt alone. Each male lion develops its own pride. It eats unassisted. Xaipe. The swing in the rouge et Noir. The depths of curled corners mixed with Fumbling hands on dark chalked walls. One with light. One with negative space. The floor. The walls. The ballerina. Hunting with little lions to make whole. One pride. One dream for Santiago; One dream. Now you say Morocco I once had a thing A thing that I thought was everything I ran out of my house My father loused w drugs and prostitution Hitting me “Go to your whore” I was 18. She was everything. I had never felt that before That: hot love - molten love Freedom in the belief in someone I felt it. It came odd. It came late. Parallels at nothing. A slate without lines. An interaction without traffic. Alive is alive no matter what. But you said Morocco and you made me smile Success What does success mean? I love being trite and pedestrian with my questions. Is success having money. It doesn’t feel like it. Is success having a family. It doesn’t feel like it. Is success being happy. I wouldn’t know what that means - it’s been a while. Is success being in love. It’s never felt like it. Do you really want success? Or do you want peace. I think most people are far too scarred to try for peace. It means not coveting. It means loving more than wanting. It means leaving bad things from bad people at their doorstep and not yours. It means putting others first. Success seems selfish. Peace seems like something you can make yours. But very few people are smart and brave enough for peace. Most of them just want things and to be perceived - that’s not peace - that fleeting. That’s pain. I’ll likely die that way - I’m not brave enough to walk away to find peace - because I know what pain lays that wake. Success isn’t what I’m after. Peace isn’t going to be attainable. The alternative is what ? Embers ive been wanting to write
a poem about embers for some long goddamn time now snow falls packed heavy to bone stepped on deep mud suffocating to time seconds flash years black fires spread in felt heart touch scolds burnt heat to tongue scramble - scurry - hurry - do something both collide nothing is made hot steam Who are you writing for? Your kids? You better go back and see the inane nonsense you spew. For her? She doesn’t care. For her? You’re doing it wrong. For him? He doesn’t care. For him? He thinks you’re weak. For yourself? You’re vapid. Get over yourself. I think it’s time I found some better meaning to my days. I’m getting near the end of this cycle. I’ll go in stronger - I’ll be hampered. I’ll be lame. I’ll come out better. | Favorites List Pandora Song List Amazon Wish List Reading Revolutionary Wealth - Tofflers Brian Jones Things Making Me Smile The City Newness Listening - [out of 5] Benjy Ferree - 4.8 The Thermals 3.1 David Gray 3.8 Quote(S) Like the guy with the beard? 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